A Bedtime Verse
by squarey
Summary: Ch 8 for you and a preview too! This follows along to some famous lines of a bed time verse. Conflicted season 7 Bobby. Some of the characters are a continuation of prior stories. As always, thanks for reading and reviewing.
1. Now I lay me down to sleep

**Author's note**: The LOCI characters are not mine. I borrowed them.

Some of the other characters are mine (e.g., Lucy, the CSU). I invented them. And, since my brain is cumulative, I am using them here, even though I developed them in prior stories.

Also, since I love a good gimmick, each chapter is titled from a line of a bedtime verse…

Opposite of the show, in this fiction world, whatever crime you might see is the background, the characters are more the focus.

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__**Now I lay me down to sleep**_

Bobby Goren lay on his couch, his arm over his eyes, listening to his alarm clock blaring so loudly he could hear it all of the way down the hall from the bed room. Same time, each day, he was forced awake. He couldn't remember the last time he had naturally opened his eyes, feeling refreshed from night of good sleep ready to face the day. He knew that some people actually lived like that; some people actually had such a life as to sleep well at night and wake up on their own without some blindingly loud sound blaring into their brain forcing them to consciousness.

An hour later he walked into a lovely downtown apartment, with a breathtaking view of the city. He stepped across yellow tape and through two CSUs deep in conversation. His eyes found Eames standing and talking with a uniform. It didn't even occur to him to walk over and talk with Eames, he simply snapped his gloves on and headed toward the dead body. A middle-aged man, White, soft through the middle, balding, lay sprawled in a chair, a bullet through the brain. Bobby irrationally thought that was how the sound of his alarm felt that morning, like a bullet through the brain.

Bobby stood for a moment, his eyes taking in the scene, the surrounding context, the view out the window. He was starting to puzzle over why Major Case was involved, clearly this was a suicide. He didn't see a single thing that suggested otherwise. So, he began his observations again, thinking that maybe his mind had skipped something. Slowly, meticulously, he studied the body, the position of the man, the relative position of the gun, the blood spatter, the brain spatter, he was back to contemplating the view out the window when Eames came to stand beside him.

"Well?" Eames asked, but Bobby actually wasn't sure if she had said the word aloud, he thought maybe it was just so clearly stated in her expression he had heard her question without her actually speaking.

"Suicide." Bobby replied. He took off his gloves, he hadn't touched anything.

"Lovely." Eames said.

"The view?" Bobby replied, revealing where his thoughts were at the moment, looking out the window. He realized Eames was looking at him quizzically, she had not been referring to the view, she had been sarcastically referring to the bloody mess and the grey matter on the chair, on the floor.

"Victim is Charles London." Eames stated, and Bobby recognized the name, understanding why Major Case was involved. Charles London was a major supporter of the Mayor, _was_ being the operative word. "I'm thinking our report will need to read a bit more than just the single word _suicide_." Eames stated. Bobby reached into his pocket to snap on a new pair of gloves. In order to provide some fancy details in the report, he figured he would have to actually touch a few things.

Hours later, Eames was saying, "See you tomorrow." Bobby looked over at her. She had not looked up from the report as she said the words. He nodded, thinking that since she hadn't looked up, she also didn't see him nod.

"Yeah, tomorrow." Bobby mumbled, and he headed out of the squad. He had spent the morning poking through London's business, establishing some startling details about London's personal life and a proclivity for young girls, which because of London's VIP nature would never hit the press, but did establish a pattern of events that clearly culminated in London's suicide. So, the last few hours of Bobby's day were spent typing it all up. All in a days work, Bobby rather numbly thought to himself as he headed out of the building.

He rubbed the back of his wrist against his forehead. He really was exhausted, but he knew that sleep was not exactly his friend. He stood on the sidewalk for a moment, wondering what to do, head home? Head out? He had this sex thing going with an energetic CSU. He decided to head over to her place.

"Busy?" He asked, dropping by completely unannounced. She smiled up at him, her silver grey eyes sparkling with attraction.

"I am now." She reached out, pulling him into her place, kissing him hungrily. He knew that he was just sex to her as well. They had fun together, but in many essential ways they were opposites. And, in as much as some people might say that opposites attract, Bobby knew that more often than not, opposites just kind of used each other.

A few hours later, Bobby slipped out of her bed. He was still hoping to get home and try for some sleep. "I should go." He softly said the words as she kissed him, also moving out of the bed. She did not seem to mind that he was leaving. She followed him to her doorway and let him out; he could hear the locks click into place behind him.

When he got home, he let himself into his place, stopping in the kitchen to grab a glass and a bottle of scotch. He sat down, pouring the glass nearly to half full. He leaned his head back against the cushions, and drank a few deep swallows. He refilled the glass twice, repeating the process. After a while, he set the glass aside and lay down on his back on the couch. He could feel a nice buzzy feeling beginning to take hold of his brain. _Now I lay me down to sleep_. He murmured to himself, slightly drunk. After a while, he fell asleep.

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**AN:** I guess now that the writers have reached a deal, we may get more shows this season. Which would be great. Maybe VDO will come back looking fabulous and my brain will shift back to the smoking hot Bobby in earlier seasons. Though, I do love to write angst... (and my code words to log in this morning were "overly sad") 


	2. I pray the lord my soul to keep

_**I pray the lord my soul to keep**_

Bobby had no idea when he had moved from the couch to the bed. But, when he woke up the next morning, he was asleep in his own bed, alarm clock in hand, trying desperately to quiet the painfully loud beeping. Finally he gained enough motor control to turn off the alarm without ripping it out of the wall. He moved slowly to get out of bed, scratching his hand through his hair. He headed off to the shower, planning to let the water scald the rest of the sleepy feeling off of him.

An hour or so later he found himself leaning against the wall in the Captain's office. He didn't particularly like being in the Captain's office. He kind of lurked near the door while the Captain and Eames engaged in a conversation, rather like he wasn't even there.

"Just get this done." The Captain was saying, thrusting a folder at Eames. "And get it done quietly." The Captain looked at Bobby as he said the last part.

"Yes sir." Eames said quietly. Bobby noticed she was gesturing at him to precede her out of the office. He followed her unspoken command.

"Get what done quietly?" Bobby followed Eames through the squad. She shot him a look over her shoulder, silently reprimanded him for not listening.

"We just have to interview this witness." Eames said.

"Witness to what?" Bobby asked.

"Yesterday." Eames referred to the London case.

"Witness to the suicide." Bobby's voice was full of skepticism. "There was no witness to the suicide." Bobby stated.

"Witness to the victim's state of mind." Eames supplied.

"What?" Bobby was impatient. He knew that this was going to be a colossal waist of time. He knew that some bureaucrat somewhere was putting the thumbscrews to Ross to interview this witness and see what damaging information might potentially be in play regarding Charles London's suicide, which presently was being played as some kind of depression related to the recent death of his brother.

"Remember, we're to get this done quietly." Eames scowled at Bobby, who rather resentfully closed his mouth.

"Quiet is my middle name." Bobby snarked.

"Right. And Rumplestiltskin is mine." Eames returned the snark.

Bobby did manage to make quiet his middle name. He let Eames interview the witness, while he stood quietly by. The witness was a very polished, almost 50 something, carefully coiffed blonde who was apparently having an affair with Charles London. She claimed that his suicide was most likely a result of her recent break-up with him. Bobby realized that she was fishing for information from them about the events immediately leading up to London's suicide. Eames did not reveal an iota of information, which frustrated the socialite. Bobby smiled, Eames really had a nice way with people. Eames was so incredibly pleasant and polite, you didn't realize she was being rude until the conversation was over. Which it was, the conversation was over and Eames stood, smiling her neutrally polite smile, offering the socialite her card, in case "anything else came to mind."

"You're an artist Eames." Bobby said, as he jumped into the passenger side of the SUV.

"Who knew?" Eames replied.

"Who knew…" Bobby asked.

"Who knew that _quiet_ really is your middle name." Eames deftly shifted the subject away from herself. Bobby sat in silence, knowing there was more to come. "Bobby, is everything Ok?" Eames asked.

"Yeah." Bobby replied, looking out the window at the buildings passing by. He didn't feel like talking with Eames, and she got the hint, but at the same time, he realized she had let him know she was there if he wanted to say anything.

The rest of the day sped by, chasing down information related to another case. Bobby watched Eames watching the clock as the last minutes of their shift ticked by. He knew she was seeing someone, a firefighter, and he was thinking she had a date. He thought about saying something, but he knew that somehow she would turn in around to him, to asking him about his plans for the evening, and since he had none, he didn't feel like walking into a conversation he knew would turn itself around on him.

"See you tomorrow." Eames stood, placing her things in her bag.

"Yeah, tomorrow." Bobby replied. He found himself out front a few minutes later, wondering what to do. He was hungry, so he decided to stop at a favorite place for something to eat. Which, unfortunately turned more like into something to drink. Which, eventually landed him on the doorstep of his friend Lucy's home.

"Bobby." Lucy answered the door, smiling. It was just after 10:00pm and Bobby was leaning in her doorjamb. Bobby realized she always had a smile for him, he counted on it, that she would always welcome him inside.

"Lucy." He smiled, a lopsided drunk smile in return. He thought she looked beautiful. She was wearing a plain white t-shirt, kind of snug against her full breasts, and black yoga pants, low on her curvy hips, just below her narrow waist. She had her wildly curly hair pulled up in a loose pony tail high on her head, so he could see the wonderful lines of her jaw, of her neck, of her angular collar bone. He closed his eyes for a moment, randomly remembering having sex with the CSU the night before, his drunk brain muddling the details, imagining being with Lucy instead of the CSU, mentally turning the feel of the CSU's thick dark shoulder length hair into the cottony feel of Lucy's springy curls.

"Bobby." She said his name again, the smile still in her tone. "Why don't you come in." She stepped aside, and he stumbled in. As he fought for a moment to gain his balance, he realized he was way more drunk than he thought. Lucy reached up, lightly placing her hands on his chest to keep him from falling forward. "Whoa." She said, her eyes widening a bit in surprise.

"Whoa is right." He replied, shaking his head slightly, in a vain effort to clear his thoughts. He was still thinking about what it would feel like to kiss her, to feel her skin on his skin, to take in the scent of every inch of her.

"Bobby." She said his name again, pulling him back to the present. He tried to set his thoughts aside. Lucy was not his to have. She was in love with someone else. And that thought made him physically ache. He realized he wanted something he couldn't have, he shouldn't have, he didn't deserve to have.

"Sorry." He muttered, and followed her into her family room. She pushed him lightly backward so he fell onto her sofa.

"I'd ask about your day…" Lucy said, sitting on the edge of the sofa, as he lay there letting the room spin around him. "Would you like to talk about your day…?" She asked, looking at him, even as drunk as he was he could see the concern in her eyes.

"Not really." He said. She said something else, but he wasn't sure what it was, he simply heard the sound of her, not her words. He rolled over onto his side, giving her a bit more room to sit in front of him, liking the feeling of having her close. Then, he was asleep. _I pray the lord my soul to keep_.

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**A/N:** As always, thanks for reading (reviews are welcome). 


	3. If I die before I wake

_**And if I die before I wake**_

"Wow, you look like hell." Logan said. Logan's voice felt so loud that Bobby actually winced. Truth was, he felt like hell. He could barely remember showing up at Lucy's the night before.

"What's that?" Bobby looked at the folder Logan held in his hand.

"The Captain wants us to chase this down." Logan replied.

"Us?" Bobby looked at Logan, scanning the squad for Eames.

"She called in for 2 hours of personal time this morning. If you would check your phone, I'm sure you could hear that for yourself." Logan looked at Bobby. Bobby thought of Eames going out with the firefighter the night before. Lucky Eames, Bobby thought. "Maybe you should've called in for that time." Logan added.

"I'm fine." Bobby responded. "Let's go." Bobby grabbed the folder from Logan and followed him out to the car.

"Go where?" Logan was sitting in the driver's seat, looking at Bobby.

"What?" Bobby growled, forgetting that he was holding the folder. Logan looked at Bobby, and then looked pointedly at the folder. Bobby opened it up, and provided the address. "What are we chasing down?" Bobby asked, leaning back against the seat, closing his eyes.

"A witness to the London case." Logan provided.

"What the hell?" Bobby opened his eyes. He thought he had shouted the words, they had definitely sounded loud in his head. But he realized he had only whispered them, more out of exasperation than anger. "How many witnesses to a suicide can there be?" Bobby closed his eyes again.

"Apparently, at least two." Logan replied, revealing he knew about the interview with the socialite from yesterday.

"At least." Bobby said a bit sarcastically. He was trying to shake off his jumbled memories of last night, of the way he was imposing Lucy on the images of having sex with the CSU. He realized he had to end things with her. In as much as she knew where things stood, he felt that it wasn't going to be too long before it was no longer fair to her. Hell, it was already apparently not working very well for him.

"So, why don't we let quiet be your middle name." Logan said as they got out of the car. Bobby scowled, apparently Logan and Eames had shared more than the basics about interviewing the socialite.

They ran into the witness, John Kowalski, as he was coming out of his apartment building - a man, 40ish, blue collar, father of a teenage girl.

"He wasn't depressed over his brother's death." Kowalski was saying after Logan had introduced himself and Bobby. Kowalski was clearly upset. "He was depressed because I threatened to go to the police if he didn't stay the hell away from my daughter." Kowalski supplied, looking increasingly agitated, adjusting the ball cap on his head. "She's 17." He was so disgusted by what he was saying, but what he was forced to think about regarding his daughter, he spit onto the ground.

Bobby was uncomfortable that this whole thing was happening outside, in front of the man's apartment building. Quiet didn't need to be Bobby's middle name, because this guy was yelling all this information practically in the middle of the street.

"I've got everything you need on that London guy. He was a first class pervert, and his money is not going to protect him from that, and neither are his connections." Bobby understood the enormity of the not so veiled threat. Kowalski was a father, the father of a girl that if Charles London was still alive, would be pressing sexual assault charges. And this guy didn't appreciate that the press was playing it like London was the victim.

"We understand your frustration sir. Any information you could share with us would be greatly appreciated." Logan offered, inviting the man to share any evidence of the affair. Bobby wondered if there were photographs or video. Bobby knew that there was no such thing as a private affair. Bobby also knew from his investigation the other day, that this man's daughter was not the only girl. He wondered about the political storm that this case was going to cause, and he empathized with Kowalski's frustration. Sometimes it was just better to let the truth be told.

"Look, I can't be late for work." Kowalski looked at his watch. "I'll hand over what I have, after work." Bobby watched Logan hand the guy his card.

"Jesus Christ, this day is going to suck." Logan said, when they were back in the car.

"It already does." Bobby mumbled.

"Kowalski's little girl was doing the whatever with Charles London. And, if that London guy hadn't offed himself, this probably would have landed with SVU. Eames said your investigation revealed there was at least one other underage girl involved. And, the brass, they want to paint this all pretty, like London was some kind of grieving family man." Logan was driving across the city, in the general direction of returning to the squad. "This is going no where but South." Bobby was familiar with that feeling.

A call came over the radio about some kind of public disruption at Charles London's residence. Mike notified dispatch they were responding to the call and put on the siren. "Like I said, no where but South." Mike bit out as they sped up town.

"I guess he's no longer worried about being late for work." Bobby said as they got out of the car and headed toward Kowalski who was in a heated argument with none other than the socialite from yesterday.

"I guess he didn't mean he was going to hand what he had over to us." Logan replied, pointing out a press van nearby covering what was happening. Logan shook his head and they both picked up the pace to see if they could somehow intercede. Kowalski was making a statement to the press, revealing that London was a predator, a pervert, that he was not some grieving victim. The socialite was sobbing, trying to deny Kowalski's allegations, saying that London was involved in a long term exclusive affair with her.

Bobby watched the socialite make grab for Kowalski, as if to make him be quiet. Kowalski reached his hand out, deflecting her. Then the socialite's well muscled looking driver got involved. He reacted like Kowalski was the one getting physical with the socialite, and a fight broke out in front of the press. Logan and Bobby stepped in. Logan identified them as NYPD. But before that registered in anyone's minds, the guy hit Logan, who fell back onto Bobby, who fell into on-coming traffic.

The car caught Bobby, throwing him up on the hood, against the windshield, then back down onto the ground. Bobby could still hear Kowalski and guy arguing, he could still hear the socialite sobbing, and he could now hear Mike Logan shouting, _officer down_, _officer down_. Logan was calling the details over the radio, their location, the nature of the accident. Bobby randomly reminded himself that he was definitely familiar with things going South. He tried for a breath, but the car had knocked all of the breath out of him. He closed his eyes and let his brain fade to black. _And if I die before I wake_…


	4. I pray the lord my soul to take

_**I pray the Lord my soul to take**_

"That's not the next line." Bobby heard Lucy's voice. "The next line is – _see me safely through the night_." Bobby's brow furrowed in pain, he was disoriented, there was an alarm blaring in his brain. He needed to shut off his damn alarm clock. He just wanted one morning, just one morning, where he felt rested.

"Lucy." He wasn't sure that he had actually said her name. And, he wasn't sure it was an alarm, he realized it was the sound of sirens splintering his brain. He realized he was in an ambulance, and that Lucy wasn't even there. He started to try and move, but the pain in his chest blacked him back out.

"Detective Goren." Someone with some kind of authority was saying his name. "Detective." Bobby was struggling to open his eyes, he was still fighting for breath, but the pain in his chest was making him sick.

"You have some cracked ribs. Detective, lie still." The voice with authority was talking to him again.

Bobby opened his eyes, he could see the ceiling, and he could tell he was in the hospital.He could see what looked to be a nurse pushing medication into his IV line. In what almost seemed instant, a blanket of drugs spread over his brain, and some of the pain subsided. He remembered Logan knocking into him, he remembered the car knocking into him, he remembered knocking into the ground. He remembered Kowalski making sure the truth about Charles London came out. He hazily thought about that for a moment, the importance of truth, about how all of the truths in his life had disappeared in practically an instant when Brady slammed into his life in the days before his mother passed away.

"Detective." The voice again, bright light in his eyes. "Please just try to lie still." The voice implored, Bobby hadn't realized he was moving. He tried to relax back against the table. "Good. Just lie still for a moment." The voice said again.

10, 9, 8, 7, 6… He was counting backward in his brain, trying to get his bearings.

"Bobby." He could hear Lucy say his name. "Bobby." He could feel someone touching his hand, his forehead, running their hand across his hair.

"Lucy." He said her name, shaking his head slightly, trying to force himself to open his eyes.

"It's Eames." The voice was different. No one was touching him, he opened his eyes to find his partner standing nearby.

"Eames." Bobby said, trying to focus on her, not succeeding.

"Do you know where you are?" Eames asked.

"Hospital." He replied.

"Do you remember what happened." Eames asked.

"Car accident." He said, remembering the car hitting him. "Cracked ribs." He continued, remembering what he thought a doctor had said to him.

"Three." Eames supplied, still standing nearby. Bobby lifted his hand, which felt extremely heavy, and remembered the nurse pushing the pain medicine into his IV. He definitely still felt drugged.

"Three." He let his hand drop, and closed his eyes.

"Bobby." Lucy's voice again, but this time Bobby didn't believe it, he didn't want to open his eyes and see that she was not there. "Bobby." Someone touching him again, the back of her hand against his cheek, her finger tips in his hair. "Bobby."

"What?" He felt grouchy, his head hurt, his chest hurt, his breath was shallow. He opened his eyes, and this time he really did see Lucy standing there. "Eames?" He said, thinking she had just been there.

"It's Lucy." She said. Again, he was struggling to focus.

"Lucy." He said her name, his tongue felt thick in his mouth. "Were you here before?" He asked.

"Eames was here, but I was here before that." Lucy offered, and Bobby knew that he had not imagined her being there, imagined her touch. "Do you know where you are?" Lucy asked. Bobby smiled, very high on the pain meds.

"I just went through this with Eames." He said, his words slipping together.

"Right. She was here." Lucy repeated, looking over her shoulder toward the door. "She just stepped out. Would you like for me to get her?" Lucy took her hand away, leaving his skin feeling cold where her warm palm had been. He sluggishly reached out for her, and she caught his heavy hand in hers.

"No." He nodded. As he said the word, he was having a hard time keeping his eyes open. He could feel Lucy return, standing close to the bed, still holding his hand in hers. "Now I lay me down to sleep…" He mumbled the first line of a verse that had been spinning around in his head.

"Now I lay me down to sleep." Lucy repeated, taking her hand from his to touch his forehead, to run her hand down his face. "I pray the Lord my soul to keep." His eyes were closed as he listened to her. "See me safely through the night." She continued, and he turned his face closer into her hand. "And wake me with the morning light." She finished, letting the back of her hand linger on his face for a moment.

He couldn't seem to open his eyes. He wanted to tell her that was not how it went, the last two lines were - _And if I die before I __wake__,I__ pray the Lord my soul to take_. And he had, he had prayed the Lord his soul to take. But he didn't have enough energy or thought left to say anything. He drifted off to sleep thinking of her words, about safely through the night.

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_**A/N:**_ This bed time verse has a lot of renditions, mostly around the last two lines... Reviews welcome if you would like two more lines :) 


	5. See me safely through the night

_**See me safely through the night**_

Bobby Goren woke up suddenly. He felt like he was suffocating, he couldn't breathe. He could feel the cold sweat of panic on his forehead, his limbs felt heavy, his body was sore, his lungs were empty.

"Bobby." It was Lucy's voice, Lucy's hand on his forehead, pressing him gently back against the bed. He could hear monitors beeping, alarms sounding. He needed to breathe. "Shhh…." Lucy said, her voice soft, her hands putting a gentle pressure against him, trying to get him to lay back. She was raising the bed to more of an incline so he wasn't lying flat out. It was dawn, he could see out the hospital window that the sun was beginning to kiss the sky.

"I can't breathe." He gasped, the pain in his ribs preventing him from breathing in. He watched Lucy click the pain medication button.

"Slowly, you need to breathe. You need to try to fill your lungs. I know it hurts." She said, taking a cold cloth to his sweaty forehead. "Close your eyes, listen to my voice, breathe in slowly, steadily, slowly, I know it hurts, slowly, steadily." He listened to her voice, softly repeating the words, her hand pressing the cold cloth to his forehead, her other hand holding his hand. He kept eyes closed and breathed in slowly, steadily. It hurt like hell. "Good, that's good." Lucy was saying. He opened his eyes to look at her.

"Were you here all night?" He asked.

"Not all night. Eames stayed a while. When they kicked her out, she called me, and I came over about an hour ago." Lucy took the cold cloth away from his forehead. He was leaning back against the bed which was now on an incline. He was partially sitting up, so he was in a bit less pain.

"I guess I made it through the night." He said, starting to feel fuzzy from the medication Lucy had pushed into his IV.

"Did you think you wouldn't?" Lucy asked, placing a fresh cool cloth on his head, offering him some water to drink.

"I don't know." His words sounded foreign to him, thick, almost unpronounceable.

"Bobby…" He could tell by her tone that she wanted to say something, but he couldn't focus on her, he tried to look at her, and think about what she might want to say. Usually he just kind of knew what she was thinking without her actually saying anything. Lucy wore her heart on her sleeve, and Bobby knew her well enough to know her moods. But this time, he couldn't tell. His vision was a little blurry, he couldn't make out the expression in her eyes, the set of her mouth. He reached out clumsily, touching a curl of her hair, pulling it straight, watching it spring back. He loved that, he loved her hair, the feel of her hair in his fingers. He could see her smile.

"Safely through the night, that's what you said, right?" He said, his words running together.

"Bobby..." Her tone was light, he could imagine her next words, _you're a mess_, meant to tease him about how the pain meds were affecting him. But he couldn't help but think, she was right, he was a mess, he was just beginning to recognize exactly how much of a mess he had let his life become.

"Lucy." He said her name, but his voice didn't sound like his own. He realized, that in part, it wasn't his own, Logan had walked into the room and had said her name as well. Bobby watched as Logan hugged her lightly, kissed her cheek.

"I'll, um, I'll just be right back." Bobby heard Lucy say and watched her leave the room.

"So you get hit by a truck, and you come out with only some cracked ribs." Logan turned to face Bobby. "Pretty incredible really, though also incredibly painful." Bobby watched Logan turn, his eyes looking out into the hallway at Lucy. "Before you go charging in and messing up her life, you need to get a hold of your own." Logan said. Bobby looked at him, scowling a bit.

"What?" Bobby said, his voice still thick, his brain a bit slow.

"I see that way you look at her when she's not looking." Logan looked at Bobby. "Before you get into her life, get a hold of your own." Logan repeated, not angrily, his tone was neural, observant. Bobby shook him off, looked out the window. "Anyway, just wanted to see with my own eyes that you made it through the night." Logan said turning to go.

"What's with that?" Bobby said, his words still slurred.

"With what?" Logan paused.

"Making it through the night…" Bobby repeated the phrase.

"Just an expression." Logan shrugged, not knowing about the prayer Lucy had recited.

"Yeah." Bobby said thickly, thinking it was just an expression until you found yourself actually living that way.

"Later Goren." Logan said, and Bobby watched him walk out of the room. Bobby closed his eyes and thought about Logan's words about not messing with Lucy's life until he could figure out his own. Bobby realized that his heart might be hurting worse than his ribs, which was saying a lot.

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**_A/N_**: Thanks for reading. Maybe soon we will actually be watching new LOCI epis again :) 


	6. And wake me with the morning light

_**And wake me with the morning light**_

When the morning light was getting high in the sky, leaning toward afternoon, Bobby found himself dressed and being discharged. He was doing his best to listen to what the doctor was saying. He was distracted by Lucy, he was distracted by the pain in his ribs, and he was slightly numbed by the pain medication that was supposed to keep him from being distracted by the pain in his ribs.

"Get plenty of rest. Take care of your lungs. It is important to breathe deeply to prevent pneumonia. I am prescribing something for the pain. You may want to consider sleeping on your right side, the side with the damaged ribs, this allows you to breathe deeper on your uninjured side. It'll take a few weeks before you begin to feel right again." The doctor was scribbling a prescription onto his pad while he was talking. Bobby was thinking about the last thing the doctor said. He hoped he would feel right again in a few weeks, he hadn't felt right in months. "Do you have any questions?" The doctor placed the prescription on top of the discharge papers and the information sheets for caring for injured ribs. Bobby shook his head "no."

"I guess you should probably try to stand." Lucy said, as the doctor left the room. Bobby watched her walk over to his bed side, standing a bit closer to him. He was sitting on the bed, his legs dangling over the edge. He moved slowly to put his feet on the floor and did his best to stand. His head rushed full of blood, then emptied again from the combination of the flood of pain and the strange disconnected feeling the pain medication was having. Bobby reached out suddenly with both hands, placing them onto Lucy's shoulders, squeezing her hard to try and catch his balance. When his eyes met hers, he could see her wincing, but she took it in without complaint. She took in his pain and did not back away a single inch. He was mystified. He found himself just looking at her, an overwhelming urge to kiss her.

"Sorry." He mumbled, trying to relax his grip on her a bit. He stood more firmly on his own feet, slowly establishing some semblance of equilibrium.

"I hear you're ready." Eames walked into the room. Bobby could tell that Eames sensed she was interrupting something. Bobby took his hands off Lucy's shoulders, and he thought he saw Lucy stagger sideways a bit. He really had just put an enormous amount of pressure on her small frame.

"I guess." Bobby said.

"He's ready." Lucy said, her tone of voice very certain.

"I'm driving." Eames offered, jingling the keys in her hand.

"You always drive." Bobby managed to tease Eames a bit. He watched his partner smile. Lucy reached forward and grabbed the paperwork from the table, and grabbed the bag with Bobby's belongings.

"Well this is all wrong." Logan walked into the room, looking at Eames and Lucy standing with Bobby. Logan reached forward and grabbed the bag of Bobby's belongings from Lucy. "You guys were just going to walk off and leave me here in the hospital wondering where everyone went…" Logan joked.

"I'm driving." Eames said, looking at Logan, letting him know that she had talked with Lucy about getting Bobby home. Trying to let him know that he was off the hook, that he didn't have to stick around, that she had it under control.

"You always drive Eames." Logan shared the joke Bobby had made earlier. "I'll just get you guys all tucked in nice and neat into that giant SUV."

Bobby noticed Lucy smiling at Logan's humor. He liked it when she smiled, but he realized he didn't like that she was smiling at Logan. Bobby watched Lucy turn and move away from Logan to stand closer to him, kind of bracing herself watching if Bobby was going to manage a first step.

"So I'm carrying this small bag of stuff, and you plan on carrying him?" Logan quirked an eyebrow at Lucy, letting her know it did not go unnoticed that she half way expected Bobby to fall over.

"I'll carry myself." Bobby stated flatly, not particularly liking the thought of Logan helping him along. Bobby realized that Lucy was looking up at him waiting for him to prove it, so he gently, but successfully took a step or two toward the door. Lucy visibly relaxed.

An hour later Bobby was sitting incredibly uncomfortable on the couch at his place. Eames had dropped them off, saying she would come back in a few hours, joking with Lucy that she would take the second shift.

"You should take these." Lucy stood in front of him, prescription in one hand and glass of water in the other. He took the pills, and the water, and she returned to the kitchen. He could hear her moving around, but it physically hurt too much to even think about turning to see what she was doing. He shoved the prescription into his mouth and drank some of the water. He could hear her cell phone ringing.

"You can get that." He yelled, very grumpy from the pain. He leaned back on the couch, trying to straighten his ribs a bit without lying down. He closed his eyes and tried to concentrate on breathing, nice and easy. He found himself rather unintentionally listening to Lucy's side of her phone conversation.

"Yeah… he's Ok, he's home… yeah, pretty painful… thanks for understanding… yeah, I'll see you tomorrow… Ok… me too…" Then Lucy hung up the phone. It was the "me too" that got to Bobby, her tone of voice, so soft, he knew she was talking with Skoda, that she had changed plans, that the "me too" was probably an "I love you." Bobby kept his eyes closed thinking about what Logan had said. Logan was right, he couldn't go charging into her life just because he had come to a realization. His life was a wreck, if he went to her with his feelings, he would definitely wreck their friendship, and most probably wreck her life as well.

"Would you like to lie down?" Lucy was standing in front of him. She was holding a bunch of pillows against her chest. "On your right side?" She suggested, revealing she had been listening to the doctor as well. He opened his eyes and sat up a bit, feeling the pain meds begin to creep onto his senses.

"I don't…" He started to say, licking his lips a bit, he felt fuzzy. "I don't need…" He continued, shook his head as if to clear it. "I don't need you." He said, looking at her. He realized she looked confused for a moment, and then she looked as if he had slapped her. "I don't need you here…" He tried to get the sentence out, he wanted to tell her that he didn't need her here, that she could keep her plans, that he would be Ok, but his head was now spinning, and he couldn't seem to string the thought together. He was aware she was watching him, a bit of hurt still in her eyes. "I don't want to need you here." He said, and he knew that wasn't what he had intended to say. He watched her expression change from stricken to understanding. He hadn't wanted to say it, but it was the truth. He didn't want to need her. She placed the pillows on the couch and helped him lie down on his right side. He could feel her put a blanket over him, and he recognized it as one of the afghans from her house. "I don't want to need you in the morning light." He mumbled, as he closed his eyes. And, even though his words made little sense to Lucy, in that moment they made perfect sense to him.

* * *

_**A/N:**_ hmmm… Bobby doesn't want to need… its hard right, to lay yourself open to need someone. 


	7. When in the morning light I wake

**Author's Note**

Here are the three ways I have heard this verse. This is the third way...

...Now I lay me down to sleep; I pray the Lord my soul to keep; _If I die before I wake; I pray the Lord my soul to take_

...Now I lay me down to sleep; I pray the Lord my soul to keep; _See me safely through the night; And wake me with the morning light_

...Now I lay me down to sleep; I pray the Lord my soul to keep; _When in the morning light I wake; Teach me the path of love to take _

_**When in the morning light I wake**_

* * *

Lucy watched Bobby drift off to sleep on the couch. Before they had left the hospital, Lucy had taken the time to talk with one of the nurses about what to expect in the first few days. The nurse had smiled and said that Lucy should probably expect him to be absolutely loopy on the pain meds or extremely grumpy from being in a lot of pain. The nurse had mentioned it takes about 48 hours to figure out the right balance of activity, rest, eating, and medication before you are able to even consider feeling human again.

She thought about what Bobby had said, about not needing her, about not wanting to need her. He had been sitting on the couch looking stubborn and in a lot of pain when Annie had called. He had practically yelled at her to answer her cell phone, she was going to let it roll into voice mail, but it occurred to her that the unanswered ringing of the phone was probably bothering him. So, she had answered.

Lucy had to change some plans around she had with Annie, and she had thanked her friend for understanding. Annie had asked about Bobby, and had expressed how glad she was that he was Ok. Lucy hadn't realized how relieved she was until Annie had actually said the words, so Lucy had responded with a simple "me too", and Lucy was surprised her voice had broken a little as she had said the words. She really was relieved that Bobby was going to be Ok.

After Lucy had hung up from her brief phone call with Annie, she had returned to the couch where Bobby was sitting to try to convince him to lie down. The doctor had said it was important to try to take full breaths, and that was difficult sometimes sitting up. Lucy could tell the pain medicine was starting to have an effect, Bobby was still scowling, but his eyes were heavily lidded and a bit less in focus, and his speech was slowed.

_I don't need you. I don't want to need you_. She thought about his words, and how difficult it must be for him to need someone. He had created a life for himself where he didn't have to rely on anyone. When she had met him, he had almost completely isolated himself from connections with other people, save for his partner Eames. His mother was dead, he said he wished his brother was dead, the nephew that had rushed into his life was gone, and then there was the whole horrible uncertainty about his paternity. His life was spiraling sideways, and he was barely coasting.

She sat down on the coffee table watching him for a moment, watching the rise and fall of his chest, watching his brow furrow slightly in his sleep as he struggled with the pain associated with breathing. She closed her eyes and put her head in her hands, thinking about her own life. She hadn't really mentioned this to anyone, but often when she closed her eyes, she flashed back to standing in the stairwell with Justin Kemp crushing her windpipe. She was shaking, coughing for air, her eyes on Bobby, on Bobby's gun, her thoughts on the gun that Kemp had pressed to her temple. She was thinking _don't shoot, God help me, please don't shoot_. And, she wasn't sure who she was thinking about, she didn't want Bobby to shoot Kemp, she didn't want Kemp to shoot her.

Lucy sighed deeply, realizing her hands were shaking. She sat up, placing her hands on her lap. She looked at her fingers, long, slender, not getting younger. She looked at her left hand where an engagement ring should be, but wasn't. Only Annie noticed that sometimes she would wear the ring, other times not. When she had gone to California to visit Emil, she had accepted his proposal. He loved her. He brought butterflies to her heart. She wanted that, she wanted love, and family, and home.

Lucy looked again at Bobby, watching him sleep. She thought about something Annie tended to say about how people make you feel in your heart. Annie had a theory that some people make your heart flutter and some people make your heart stand still. Annie claimed those were two very different things. Annie also thought that some people were looking for someone to make their heart flutter, while others were looking for someone who made their heart stand still. Annie accused Lucy of being a flutterer. That Lucy had this incredibly stabile, loving life, and she was looking for someone who made her heart flutter with a love that was new and exciting. And, Annie thought that maybe people whose life was not so certain or so stabile tended to look for people who made their heart stand still with the certainty that they were loved.

After all of the years she had been with him, Emil still brought butterflies to her heart. Lucy had never known someone that made her heart stand still. That is, she had never known someone until perhaps now. Lucy wondered if the fluttery feeling was because something was uncertain. Maybe she really wanted someone that made her heart stand still. In a lot of ways, Lucy felt Emil was her opposite. He was extroverted, externalized. She was attracted to him because he brought something that was different. She knew this was why her heart fluttered. Emil was new, unexpected, and sometimes unfathomable. She looked at Bobby, here was someone that was familiar to her, she knew what he was thinking and he knew what she was thinking without always saying.

Lucy closed her eyes again, rubbing the heels of her hands lightly across her eyelids. Again, an image of Justin Kemp leapt into her mind, the loud explosion of the gun, blood splattering everywhere, wet against her face. She shivered and felt sick. She had nightmares, reoccurring. She could feel Justin Kemp's body hit the floor, his life gone, and she would run down the stairs, free, but still panicked, trying to get away. In her dream she would be running through the dark, toward someone, someplace that was safe, that was home, sometimes it would be Emil, but increasingly she realized it was Bobby.

Lucy looked outside. It was one of those strange evenings where the sunset actually looked more like the morning light of a sunrise. The light through the clouds was exploding into an array of yellows, oranges, and reds. It was spectacular - more like a new day, than the dimming of a day.

* * *

_**A/N:**_ One more line/chapter (for this part of the story anyway :) - _Teach me the path of love to take…_


	8. Teach me the path of love to take

_**Teach me the path of love to take**_

Bobby woke up abruptly. The pain in his ribs ripped him out of a rather deep, dreamless sleep. He went to gasp, but stopped himself short, realizing the deep breath would cause even more pain. He had slept on his sofa, kind of wedged inbetween pillows, in an attempt to ease some of the pressure on his side. He moved very slowly, cautiously, to sit up. He could hear someone in the kitchen, and he thought of Lucy. He thought of what he remembered saying to her, about not needing her, about wanting her to go.

He could smell coffee, and he realized with dismay that Lucy was not the one in his kitchen. He guessed it was Eames. He remembered something from yesterday about Eames taking the second shift. He pushed himself to standing, slowly, carefully. He shuffled toward the bathroom without really establishing eye contact with Eames.

When he walked back into the kitchen, there was a glass of water on the table, his prescription next to it. Eames was drinking a large cup of coffee, reading the paper. He could smell toast in the toaster, and he realized he was hungry.

"Eames." Bobby said, gingerly sitting down, keeping his back straight, his ribs as still as possible.

"Goren." Eames responded without taking her eyes from the paper. "You should take that, and you should eat something." She stood, buttering two pieces of toast, placing them in front of him. Bobby did as he was told, took the pain meds, and ate some toast. After a while Eames put the paper aside. "The doctor said it would take a few weeks before you felt right again, but he didn't say anything directly about when you would be able to come back to work."

"I guess I'll find that out tomorrow. I have a follow up appointment." Bobby crunched on the toast.

"You could maybe come back on some kind of restricted duty." Eames offered.

"Great." Bobby drank the rest of the glass of water. Eames watched him. He needed to shower, to shave. She wondered how that would go. He seemed a bit more alert this morning. She figured he would find a way to work it out.

"I was going to head to the grocery store. I have some things I need to get for myself, there are some things you seem to need." Eames stood. "The list is there, if you would like to add anything." She watched him look at it, he did not add anything.

"It looks fine." He said, standing to make himself 2 more pieces of toast.

"I shouldn't be more than an hour." Eames picked up the list. "You could shower, the heat should relax your muscles." Eames suggested. Bobby nodded. "Ok then, see you in a bit." Eames said, and he watched her walk out of the apartment.

He headed slowly down the hall toward the shower. The heat and the water would probably feel good on his back, but he knew that the pressure of the water would probably not feel so good on his ribs, so he was kind of conflicted. He knew he would have to just suck it up; he needed to take a shower.

After the shower he put on clean clothes and returned to the couch. The combination of the physical exertion, the pain meds, and the fact that he hadn't really slept in what felt like months knocked him out again. When he woke back up, he could tell by the position of the sun that it was probably midafternoon. Again, he could hear someone in the kitchen, and he could smell what he thought was spaghetti sauce. He sat up slowly, and stood, turning toward the kitchen, thinking he might find Lucy. He found Eames.

"There is lasagna in the oven. Lucy brought it by." Eames offered. "Well it was frozen, but she left it for you to heat up today." Eames corrected.

"She left it for me." Bobby asked, thinking he was losing time. Or maybe it was Eames who was losing time, or at least she was confusing it. Bobby recognized that Eames was distracted by somehting.

"When she was here last night, before she left this morning, she left it here." Eames said, and Bobby still could not really follow what she was saying.

"When was Lucy here?" Bobby asked.

"Last night. She stayed the night last night, and left this morning when I got here." Eames replied. Bobby was nodding as if that was supposed to make sense. "I have to go, but I could come back later if you like." Eames offered, kind of gesturing toward the door.

"Where is Lucy now?" Bobby asked, kicking himself, not wanting to ask, remembering how he wanted not to need her, he had wanted her to go.

"California." Eames replied, and Bobby felt like Eames had kicked him in his cracked ribs. "She left this morning, but she said she will be back tomorrow." Eames looked puzzled. "That doesn't make sense, does it - that she would go to California for just a day." Eames shrugged. "I could come back later if you like." Eames offered again.

"No, I'll be Ok." Bobby replied.

"Good, but I'll call you. And, if you don't pick up, then I'm coming back." Eames warned. Bobby nodded and watched Eames leave. He looked in the kitchen at the lasagna cooling on the counter top. He sat and ate a plate of lasagna and drank a glass of water. He was thinking he wanted to stay awake for a while, so he was trying to avoid taking the pain medication. But, he found he couldn't stop thinking about Lucy, in California, with Skoda, for just a day. He placed his plate in the sink, and grabbed the medication, and chased it back with a generous shot of scotch. He figured that should do the trick and stop him from over thinking what Lucy was doing with Skoda.

In about 30 minutes he could barely see the path to the sofa, which interfered with his thinking about the path to love.

* * *

_**Author's Note**_: Bobby - so self destructive. He didn't get to read the previous chapter and does not know what's on Lucy's mind :) And so it goes… 


	9. Preview of And so it goes

**Author's Note**: So, here is the beginning of a next story. I will re-post it as Chapter 1… I am back to writing from Lucy's first person point of view.

_**And so it goes**_, by Billy Joel

In every heart there is a room; A sanctuary safe and strong; To heal the wounds from lovers past; Until a new one comes along

* * *

I stood outside Bobby's apartment door about to knock when I realized I had his key in my pocket. I had called Eames about an hour ago to check in and she was making little sense. It was clear she was at work, caught up in something. She seemed surprised to hear from me, mumbling something about my being in California. I was not in California, I tried to explain, I had met Emil but he was in New York. I figured she had somehow misunderstood what I had said, or that I hadn't been specific when I left saying I was going to see Emil. 

I could see that I probably hadn't been very clear with Alex. I had been up most of the night, thinking. I needed to talk with Emil about my feelings. He had pointed out that I tended to process my feelings without ever talking about them, and then I would come to him with some forgone conclusion. He said that was a bit unfair, that if I wanted him to share his life with me, I needed to share myself with him. And he was right. I did need to talk with him. Not everyone could read my mind like Bobby seemed to usually be able to do.

Brunch had gone completely unexpectedly. I had thought to talk with Emil about love, about what he felt, how he knew he loved me. I wanted to see if his heart fluttered or his heart stood still. I wondered if he thought that way, if he thought about how his heart felt.

Instead he asked me to move to California with him. He was enjoying his job, and I sensed that there was somehow a bit of celebrity about it, that he was building a respectable reputation in some rather high powered circles. Not to mention, he actually seemed to love the weather in LA, which was in stark contrast to the current slushy grey weather in New York.

"What?" My voice was barely a croak, but I managed to say the word.

"Move to California." Emil asked, or rather stated.

"Does this mean you are thinking about not returning to New York?" I evaded his question, and I watched his brow furrow into a bit of a scowl. I had not immediately jumped at the idea of moving to California. I could not imagine moving away from the east coast, I could not imagine moving away from my home, my family, my friends, my life. My conversation about how I felt, about how he felt, suddently felt a bit out place.

"I didn't say that." He hedged, and I almost said, _yes you did_. I knew that was what was going on, why else would he ask me to move to California.

"You like it, California." I said, trying to take a breath, trying to understand.

"Yes, yes I do." He replied, his eyes never leaving mine. I looked at him for a long moment, and I realized that he had done what he accused me of doing. He had thought something through, he had thought it all of the way through without every speaking to me about it. He was going to stay in California. I knew him, I knew his expressions, his tone.

"You're staying in California, you extended your contract, your obligation." I stated, not as a question. "And now, after the fact, you are asking me to move." My hands were starting to shake so I took them from the top of the table and set them in my lap. He didn't respond, but I did see him shift slightly, as if trying to decide how to respond. "Don't, don't say anything." I said, I stood. "I came to ask you how you felt about me, how you felt in your heart, you know, does your heart flutter, does it stand still, does it do anything when you think of me…" I could hear my voice increase in volume a bit. I placed my napkin on the table. I could see he was surprised by, what for me, was a bit of an outburst. I usually processed internally, but not this time, this time I was feeling it for the first time, thinking it for the first time. I placed the engagement ring on top of the napkin. "You must think I'm so silly." My voice broke, I had tears in my eyes. "I'm not moving to California." I stated what had to be obvious.

"Lucy…" He stood, saying my name, but not knowing what to say.

"You just made a long term commitment, and you never even brought it up to me, you never even let me know you were considering it. Don't _Lucy_ me." And, I surprised myself by getting angry. I could tell he was completely taken off guard."Don't _Lucy_ me." I repeated, meaning don't you dare tell me you love me, and I had turned and walked away.

A few hours passed by where I literally was just sitting at a table in my favorite coffee shop, not really drinking my favorite hot tea, not really reading the paper on the table in front of me, not really even watching all of the people walking by on the sidewalk. I guess I was just kind of sitting there stunned. I don't know what made me look at my watch, but when I did, I returned to earth, and realized I had said I would check in with Alex Eames.

When I had called Alex, she had said she had been trying Bobby for the past 30 minutes and he wasn't answering. She figured he was probably asleep, and she would go by his place to check on him. I told her not to worry about it, I could easily go by, I wasn't in California, in fact, I was in New York and my evening was wide open.

So, I found myself standing in the hall, wondering if I should let myself in with the key. I ended up knocking, and then letting myself in.

"Bobby." I said his name, letting him know I had let myself in. His apartment was dark, but I could see the flicker of his television set. I walked toward the family room, expecting to see him on the sofa, but instead he was reclined in a chair, his feet up on an ottoman, the afghan over his legs. I could tell he had showered, and even shaved. I was surprised that he had shaved into a goatee. It was actually kind of handsome, giving his face new angles.

"That was fast." He said, taking me aback a bit.

"What was fast?" I asked, my head still spinning from my day. I thought his head was probably spinning from his meds. His eyes looked tired, a little out of focus.

"California." He said, rubbing the back of his hand across his nose.

"I wasn't in California." I replied, sitting down on the ottoman near his feet. I could see a look of confusion enter his expression.

"Eames said you were with Skoda." He said, looking at me.

"Yeah, but not in California." I offered, wanting to talk with Bobby but not knowing how.

"Why are you here?" He asked, he sounded odd, his tone was odd.

"You didn't answer your phone when Alex called, I told her I would come by to check on you."

"Well, check me off your list." He said, snidely. I leaned in a little, trying to follow him, his mood, his tone.

"Have you been drinking?" I asked. In the time I had known him, in as many times as I had seen him practically falling down drunk, I had never really asked the question quite like that.

"Why?" He asked, his non-answer was really an answer for me.

"Why?" I stood, my emotions overwhelming me. "You were just hit by a car, you could've been killed, you have several cracked ribs, not to mention you're on prescription pain medication. Did you chase that down with a drink?" I asked, then I directly followed with "don't, don't answer that." I held my hand out, I could see it shaking, I was shaking. "Oh my god." I whispered, I placed my palm on my forehead, looking at him. I moved my hand to place it over my chest, over my heart. "Oh my god." I whispered again, my heart, it was still, it was breaking, but it was still.

"You should go." He said, looking away from me.

"I should, I should go." I said, knowing he couldn't push any harder for me to go, but I couldn't seem to go.

"I don't need you." He said, he winced as he moved, against the pain in his ribs, so he wasn't as numb as he could have been. And maybe what he meant was that he didn't need me there, right then, or he didn't need me to stay again tonight, but that wasn't what he said, and I was so tired I couldn't really guess at what he meant. All I could think was – _but I need you - _but that wasn't what I said.

"I'm going to go." I said, and I turned, and practically ran out of his apartment.

* * *

_**A/N**_: So much angst, so little time. So, if you are still reading, drop me a review and motivate me to start this as a new story, following along to Billy Joel's most awesome song "And So It Goes" :) Thanks for all of your support. 


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